By: Ngurah Sigit
In the silence that is often forgotten, the world pulses with an invisible harmony. There are hands working in the dark, ensuring that the wheels of life keep turning, though they are never seen. They, the unspoken pillars, are the force behind the beauty we behold. There is no self-interest, no spotlight. Everything moves in silence, like the wind that moves the leaves without asking if anyone notices.
Their existence is not meant to be remembered, but to be felt. Like the roots of a tree hidden in the ground, never praised, yet the reason for the branches that rise high. They do not seek recognition. In their simplicity, they find a greater meaning, far from the clamor of worldly ambition. For them, strength is not about cheers, but about giving without limit, creating without a name.
The universe watches them in silence, much like how the night accepts the light of the moon without taking away its beauty. There is no desire to be known, because their presence needs no proof. In every small step they take, there is sacrifice that is never told, there are stories that are never written. Yet, this is where their immortality lies—in the traces they leave behind, in the continuity they create.
A true hero understands that life is not about what can be achieved, but what can be given. They understand that the world will not survive by those who thirst for grandeur, but by those who silently maintain harmony. Without sound, without a face. Only small movements, almost imperceptible, yet the pulse that keeps life moving forward.
Their silence is not a sign of absence, but proof of something deeper. A reminder that immortality is not always found in greatness. Sometimes, it is hidden in the small things we never notice, yet are always there, always guarding. Like the morning that comes without asking for attention, like the rain that falls without asking for thanks.
So, whenever the world feels too dazzling, take time to look within the silence. There, the truth of the hidden heroes rests. Not to be remembered, but to be honored in the simplest way: by continuing the goodness they began, without ever asking who will see.
The Author is: Sociologist, Culturalist, and Media Observer.